


a little domestic mayhem never hurt nobody

by Doijet



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Cullen getting bossed around by various ladies, F/F, Sera being inappropriate, broken dishware, cool inquisition has chill day
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-25
Updated: 2014-07-25
Packaged: 2018-02-10 05:31:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,193
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2012817
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Doijet/pseuds/Doijet
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“So,” Sera said, breaking the silence with all the subtlety of a nug in heat. “Who's gonna clean that up, then?”</p>
            </blockquote>





	a little domestic mayhem never hurt nobody

**Author's Note:**

> This is the first piece of fanfiction I've written in about three years, the first piece I've posted online in four years, and the first piece I've written for the Dragon Age fandom, ever. I've only skimmed over it so I apologize for how messy it probably is. And how utterly random in subject matter.

“So,” Sera said, breaking the silence with all the subtlety of a nug in heat. “Who's gonna clean  _that_  up, then?”

“Not me,” Dorian and Iron Bull said immediately. The rest of the group promptly expressed similar sentiments with varying amounts of incredulity.

“Well, if you ask me--” Cassandra began.

“Which we didn't,” Sera muttered.

“--it would be prudent for the person  _responsible_  for the mess to clean it up.”

The unlikely group (minus a supremely unimpressed Vivienne) turned to look at their intrepid Inquisitor, who sat proudly on a nearby table with one leg crossed over the other. They watched silently for a moment as she picked under her nails with a dagger that had probably been lodged in some poor sod's spine earlier that day.

“Don't look at me,” she said carelessly after a few tense seconds, not even bothering to glance up from her nails. “In  _my_  humble opinion, Cullen should clean all that up.”

“What? Why?” Cullen said, startled in the wake of the Inquisition's sudden attention. “I had nothing to do with... _this_.”

He gestured at the mess to emphasize what 'this' was: an array of shattered ceramics that covered a good portion of the hearth room floor, easily recognizable as a set that had been on display in a large glass cabinet not two hours before they arrived. Inquisitor Adaar simply continued to pick at her nails.

“You should handle it because it would be a huge favor to me, dear Advisor, as I'm very busy. And important," she added thoughtfully.

“You've been trying to get blood from under your nails for the past half hour,” Cullen pointed out reasonably. “That doesn't scream 'terribly busy' to me.”

“And what would you know about 'terribly busy'?” She asked, just as reasonably.

“Or screaming,” Sera said under her breath, a great deal more suggestively than was strictly necessary.

Cullen opened his mouth to reply, expression stormy and arms raised in exasperation, but Vivienne cut him off with an elegant wave of her hand.

“I believe we are more than capable of handling this situation without resorting to petty squabbles,” she said, and then pointed at Cullen so suddenly he snapped to attention as though expecting a reprimand from a superior. “You, Adviser—be a dear and call for a servant to clean up this pile of rubbish.”

“We don't  _have_  servants,” Varric said, after a long and awkward moment during which Cullen stared blankly at Vivienne, who had already returned to ignoring everyone in a fashion that was somehow more judgmental than that of their Inquisitor.

"Well, _someone_ has to clean it up," Cassandra said in exasperation when everyone stubbornly stayed put.

"I would, lass, but my back..." Blackwall began, only to be cut off by a series of good-natured 'boos'.

" _I_ would, but...well, no, I really wouldn't," said Dorian.

"I doubt you've ever had to lift a finger to do anything, mage."

Dorian wiggled his fingers at Cassandra. "Only a moment ago I lifted a cup of wine to my lips, Seeker."

"Why don't we vote on it?" Adaar suggested, prying some crusted blood from under her thumbnail with impressive focus.

"I vote Cassandra," Sera said immediately. When the woman in question glared at her in accusation, she merely shrugged. "You look like you'd be good at it."

"What's that supposed to mean?" Cassandra demanded, taking a step towards Sera that would have been threatening if she didn't also look genuinely curious.

"Dunno, really. I just thought it'd annoy you."

"Maker help me," Cassandra sighed, dropping the subject entirely. "I fear a vote would just end in bloodshed, Inquisitor."

"Perfect," Iron Bull said, at the same time Adaar muttered: "That was kind of the point."

" _So_?" Cassandra prompted, eliciting a groan from many members of the Inquisition. Varric put his head in his hands in a rather over-dramatic pose of despair.

Another several moments of awkward silence passed, everyone twirling their cups or staring at their feet, perfectly content to ignore the situation entirely.

“Oh, for Maker's sake—fine! I'll clean it up!” Cassandra finally exclaimed, throwing her hands in the air in resignation.

A cheer broke out at her proclamation, starting with a polite clap from Varric and ending with an expletive-laden whoop from Sera. Cassandra shook her head in disgust and began gathering up the scattered shards of hideous plates and bowls, muttering to herself all the while. After a moment Solas and Cole joined in to help, followed almost immediately by an affable Blackwall and Varric. Cullen had managed to make an escape, judging by his suspiciously sudden absence, and Vivienne remained standing off to the side with her arms crossed and her chin raised imperiously.

“How in Thedas did you even manage to break that much tableware, Inquisitor?” Dorian asked, leaning against a wall and watching the unlikely clean up crew with a quirked eyebrow. “We only returned an hour ago.”

“I'm adept at all forms of destruction, dear mage,” Adaar said, finally looking up from her nails.

“That's what I like best about you,” Iron Bull said with an approving nod. Adaar flashed him a smirk.

“Really?” Sera asked, wandering over and perching casually on the table next to the Inquisitor. “I'm a fan of her tits, m'self.”

Dorian groaned, his mouth twisting in playful distaste, but Adaar smiled broadly and smacked a kiss to Sera's cheek, wrapping an arm around her significantly smaller shoulders. “Good to know _your_ priorities are still in order, despite all the mayhem we caused today.”

“Oh, come off it!” Sera said with a cheeky grin, plucking at Adaar's long eggshell braid affectionately. “Can't prance about forgetting what's really important in times as dire as these.”

“Very true."

"And they say romance is dead," Dorian said, dry as dust. Iron Bull nudged his side, nearly sending him sprawling onto the floor.

"Perhaps it is in Tevinter, Curly!" Varric called from across the room.

Some time later, after the reluctant clean up crew had finished picking up the mess of broken plates and left with the rest of the group in tow (Blackwall complaining about his bad back to a politely sympathetic Solas all the while), Sera turned to Adaar with her arms crossed over her chest and a smirk on her lips.

“Why'd you take the fall for that, then?” She asked. “'S not like I'd 'ave been in any real trouble. Probably.”

“Perhaps I don't want you in any kind of trouble, real or otherwise,” Adaar said. Then she grinned, quick and fierce. “Or maybe I wanted you to make it up to me later.”

“I like the second one best,” Sera said with one of her infectious snort-laughs, hopping gracelessly onto Adaar's lap.

After several pleasurable moments--if severely misguided moments, given their location--Adaar pulled away just enough to speak into Sera's mouth.

"Why  _did_  you break those ugly plates, anyway?" She asked, genuinely curious (if slightly out of breath).

"Target practice,  _obviously_. And they looked more bloody expensive than everything I've ever owned.  _Combined_."

"Fair enough," Adaar accepted with a chuckle, wrapping large hands around Sera's waist and capturing her mouth once more.

**Author's Note:**

> My Adaar doesn't have a name yet so she gets the Hawke treatment. Also, what's up with the lack of Sera in fanfiction, fandom? This needs to change. Make it law, Obama.
> 
> P.S. No ugly dishes were broken in the production of this fanfic. Probably. And magic can't fix dishes or clean up messes either, mostly because I said so.


End file.
